


slodgers

by frausorge



Category: King of the Wind - Henry
Genre: Gen, eid-ka-chand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-20
Updated: 2009-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-03 03:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frausorge/pseuds/frausorge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For his own part, Agba could have been happy in the fen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	slodgers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Eid-ka-Chand 2009.

For his own part, Agba could have been happy in the fen. It was damp, that was true, and often chill, and the hut to which he and Sham and Grimalkin had been sent was full of drafts at first. Mister Twickerham had overreached in calling the hut ghostlike, though; the stones of its walls were as solid as any in the great house at Gog Magog, and once Agba had patched the chinks with mud and built a peat fire on the hearth, it was cozy enough.

And the hut might have been five miles and more from the inn, or any other human house, but it was close to other things: to the stream where Agba could fish, to the nests of the finches and thrushes and crows, to the causeway where the ground was solid enough to let Sham gallop. Every day Grimalkin disappeared among the reeds and returned again to prowl around the hut and rub against Agba's calves. Agba strewed some grains from the fortnightly ration of oats on the ground, and the boldest of the crows came to eat them, approaching closer and closer, till the two of them grew so familiar that the crow would alight on Agba's shoulder to caw companionably in his ear. And Sham was a constant, whether carrying Agba on his back or following at Agba's side, never out of sight. With such friends there was no fear of being lonely.

Sometimes, indeed, Agba felt positively happy to be miles from any other person. He wove a mat of reeds and bowed down at the appointed times every day to pray, and no one interrupted or kicked him or rousted him up to do some task. He marked the days, watched the moon, and began the Ramadan fasts when he saw the crescent, and no one mocked him or tried to press food and drink on him during the days. Nor, he reflected darkly, remembering the mare lying so still in the Sultan's stable, did anyone forbid him to feed and water Sham.

There were no gazelles in the fen for Sham to outrun as his dam had done. But when they were flying along the causeway, with the sun's rays gleaming on Sham's coat, Agba felt as light as the wind himself and wished for nothing.

But Sham - Sham. Sham was majesty, royalty, descended from the stables of the Prophet (peace be upon him). He had been born to outdo all others. Agba had promised him on his first day that the multitudes would acknowledge his sovereignty, and that promise had not meant multitudes of starlings fluttering up from the ground as he passed. Sham should be seen, should be known. For that, Agba would gladly give up all the comforts of their independence in the fen. He knew well that his own two eyes could never be enough to take in all Sham's beauty. Roxana, at least, for that short time had recognized Sham as her proper mate. Yet now here they were, exiled.

Sham nosed at Agba's cheek and returned his gaze bright-eyed, no hint of reproach. Agba clapped Sham on the side of his long neck and rubbed him down once more with the increasingly ragged cloth. Then, in the light of the setting sun, Agba made his intention, bowed his face to the ground, and prayed.


End file.
